


John Doe #17

by mizmahlia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 12:05:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizmahlia/pseuds/mizmahlia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A nurse watches over a young man one night during her shift in the ICU. He has no one, at least that's what she believes, until another young man arrives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	John Doe #17

Lucy approached the nurses’ station and rested her elbows on the counter, massaging her temples wearily. She was nearing the tail-end of an eighteen-hour overtime shift and it had been a doozy. She glanced at the clock above the desk where one of the nurses was working. The nurse, Susan, smiled softly as she made notes in the chart laid open on the desk in front of her.

“Not time to go home yet, I’m afraid.” Susan put the pen down and flexed her fingers. “We’ve still got another hour or so.” 

“Yeah. Any issues while I was down in the ER?” 

Susan nodded and grabbed the folder she had been working in, handing it to Lucy. “The man in 331 who had the pulmonary embolism this afternoon? He coded about an hour ago. We were able to stabilize him shortly after. It was pretty dicey since he’d only been out of surgery a couple of hours to stop some internal bleeding. Thankfully they didn’t have to crack his chest open a third time.”

Lucy winced and read through Susan’s notes. She scanned the information on the first page about his medical history. The page was blank, save for the box at the top. It read “John Doe #17”. 

“Wait.. A John Doe?  How did he get here?”

Susan shrugged and turned to the sink to wash her hands. “I don’t know, he got here before my shift started. You should go ask Tom; he was working the ER at the time.” Lucy held up the chart, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, go ahead and take it. I’ll come find you after I change the IV in room 309.” Susan shook the excess water off her hands and grabbed a paper towel.

Lucy turned and walked down to the end of the hallway to room 331. She carefully peered into the room in case the man had a visitor. She frowned a bit when no one was sitting in the chair beside the bed. She looked down at the folder, flipping through its pages as she entered the room. The quiet hiss of the ventilator and heart monitor were the only sounds she could hear, save for her footsteps as she approached the bed. Sighing sadly, she read the first lines of the admitting physician’s report.

_Patient brought into the ER at 23:57 unconscious with massive trauma to chest. Pulse 65/40, not oxygenating. Contusions to face and scalp; no fractures, dislocations or major lacerations on extremities. Chest x-ray revealed internal bleeding as a result of rib fractures and flail chest was present. Patient was rushed to OR immediately._

_Height approximately 6’1”, weight 187. Green eyes, light brown hair. Tattoo on chest. Unable to locate next of kin; patient assigned John Doe #17. Personal effects revealed no identification._

She put the chart on the chair next to the bed and approached the man. The tape holding the breathing tube in place nearly disappeared against his ashen skin. Lucy sighed softly and held the back of her hand against his cheek checking for fever. When it was cool to the touch, she paged Susan and turned to check the multiple iv bags hanging on the pole next to the ventilator. The anti-clotting medication was running low. Susan rushed in, slightly out of breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“The anti-clotting meds are nearly gone. And can you grab another blanket?”

Susan nodded as she walked closer to the bed. “It never stops hurting to see someone lying in intensive care alone, you know? Especially with the injuries he has.” She checked the other medications on the IV pole and picked up his chart to make notes. 

“No one has called in asking about someone who looks like him?” Lucy asked hopefully. Susan shook her head and handed the chart back to Lucy. 

“Not a single call,” Susan replied quietly, leaving to retrieve the blanket and medication.

Lucy pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down, intending to go over the rest of the notes in the chart. She looked at the man; he couldn’t have been much older than 30 but the light spattering of freckles over his nose and cheeks made him look a bit younger. She swallowed thickly and forced herself to read over the rest of the notes. A few minutes later Jane rushed back in, carrying a warmed blanket and an IV bag. 

“Sorry it took me so long; I had to go upstairs to get the blankets. The warmer down here is being repaired.” 

Lucy remained quiet as Susan worked behind her. She craned her neck to look at Susan when she felt the hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t do this, Lucy.” 

She turned back to the man before her, who by all indications should be dead based on the injury to his chest. She hadn’t counted the fractured ribs on the x-rays, but he had taken one hell of a beating- enough to cause part of his chest to break away from his rib cage. She spoke around the lump in her throat, not wanting to meet Susan’s gaze.

“Do what?” 

“Set up a bedside vigil for him. I know it’s awful we don’t know who he is, but it’s not good for you to do this again. You remember what happened to that teenage girl you got so attached to..” Lucy held up a hand, cutting Susan off.

“I was a rookie then, Susan, and this is different. I’ll deal with it as I see fit, ok?” When she simply stood there staring at her, Lucy’s glare softened. “I know you’re looking out for me, I get it. But I’ll be fine.”

Susan just shrugged and turned to leave, taking the chart from Lucy.

“I have some charting to finish, so when you’re ready I’ll be at the nurses’ station.” 

Lucy turned back to the chair beside the bed and slid it close enough to the bedside to grab his hand and wrap hers around it. Leaning back into the uncomfortable chair, she rubbed her thumb over the skin on the back of his hand.

“If you can hear me, you aren’t alone, ok? I’m here.” 

For the next forty-eight minutes Lucy sat and watched John Doe #17’s chest rise and fall rhythmically as the ventilator did its job. He had a long recovery ahead of him with numerous complications they had to avoid, pneumonia just for starters. Just as she rested her head on the back of the chair in exhaustion, she heard Susan talking to someone in hushed tones as they made their way down the hall toward her. She turned as they entered the room, still holding the man’s hand.

The man with Susan, a very _tall_ man, looked at the man in the bed with a mixed expression of horror and relief, then at Lucy, and finally at Lucy’s hand holding his. She gently pulled her hand from John Doe’s and stood.

“Do you know him?” He brushed by her, completely stunned. All he could manage was a single nod. “Do you know what caused his injuries?” He sat down in the chair just before his legs gave way. He shook his head. She glanced at Susan then back at the man. “Did she tell you what’s wrong with him?” Another nod; he was growing paler by the minute and had started to shake.

“Well,” said Lucy, pulling up a chair on the opposite side of the bed. “My name is Dr. Price, but you can call me Lucy. Why don’t I tell you a bit more about his injuries and you can tell me more about him, ok?” The man swallowed several times before speaking and then he locked eyes with her.

“Thank you.” He grabbed John Doe’s hand, minding the iv’s. He cleared his throat softly. “He’s my brother.”


End file.
